


Dig

by fallenangel218



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Nightmares, PTSD, Songfic, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenangel218/pseuds/fallenangel218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the Vietnam War may be over, but for the A-Team, the horrors still live in their minds. Series of vignettes, plus Epilogue. Inspired by the Incubus song "Dig."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Templeton Peck

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The images in this fic will be mainly nightmares from Vietnam. The fic is not intended to offend anyone. I have no idea what really happened in Vietnam during the war, and I won't pretend that I know. This is just an idea that would not escape my imagination.

**"We all have a weakness, some of ours are easy to identify... "**

 

_Night fell over the jungles outside of Hanoi. Lieutenant Templeton Peck moved quietly through the trees. Not far away, Colonel John Smith was flanking him, along with Sergeant B.A. Baracus, and Captain H.M. Murdock. The A-Team. They had a mission to complete... take out the intended target, and get out._

_Peck stopped and dropped to his knees behind an overgrown clump of bushes. He had reached his destination. He looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, and followed his target as the soldier moved across the VC camp. It was time._

_The next five minutes were a blur. A shot rang out, and the silence was quickly filled with gunfire, and shouts in Vietnamese. Peck was on his feet and running, his team running with him. He almost got away, too, but there was a root protruding from the earth that Peck could not see in the dark jungle. He fell to the ground, and before he could get up, there were three VC pointing guns at his face._

_"đón anh ta," one of them said. Seconds later, Peck was hauled up and dragged off. He wasn't sure where his team was, if they'd gotten out, captured or shot. He was completely on his own._

_They beat him for two hours... they wanted to know who fired the shot. Peck remained silent. He would not sell out  
his team. _

_"dừng lại!"_

_It was a bit of what little he could say in Vietnamese... and he meant it with every fiber of his being. He wanted the beating to stop._

_It did not stop._

_They threw his beaten body into a dirt cell, with other soldiers. He dragged himself away from the bars, and leaned against the filthy wall. He was going to die in this camp. He was sure of it._

_They came for him again in three hours. He fought weakly as they dragged him back to the place he'd been beaten._

_There was a man waiting for him, running his finger along the blade of a large knife._

_"không!" he yelled as two VC held him down, and a third held out his hand across a heavy wooden table. "khong! dừng lại!"_

_"You will confess," said the VC with the knife, in broken English. "Who fired shot?"_

_"I don't know! I swear! Please..."_

_Knife VC looked at the man holding Peck's hand down, and there was a brief Vietnamese conversation. The knife was laid on the table, right next to Peck's hand. The VC picked up a mallet instead._

_"No.. no no no..."_

_He swung the mallet down onto Peck's hand. His screams could be heard across the camp._

_"bạn sẽ thú nhận."_

~*~*~*~*~*~  
"No!" 

Face shot up in bed, sweating profusely. His heart rate was out of control, and he could barely breathe. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he came back to his senses, and realized that he was in his bedroom, in California. No Hanoi, no VC. 

Safe. 

He let himself breathe for a few minutes, then threw the blankets off of himself and padded into the master bathroom. He took an inhaler from the medicine cabinet and took a few puffs. He'd seen a doctor after the first few nightmares, and he'd been prescribed an inhaler and an anti-anxiety medication. He didn't mind the inhaler... the anxiety meds remained unopened. 

He quietly left his bedroom and went down the hall into the living room of his scammed condo. He made a beeline for the wet bar, and mixed himself a strong drink. He sucked it down quickly, rinsed the glass and set it back in its proper place.

He went back to his bedroom and slipped back under the covers. He reached a hand under his pillow and brought out his Rosary. He gripped it tightly as a single tear ran down his cheek. 

"God help me... I'm so sorry..." 

He clutched the Rosary, and hummed a tune that Sister Jude used to sing to him, to help him sleep when he was scared.

_Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing... you reign now in heaven with Jesus our King... Ave, Ave... Ave Maria... Ave, Ave...Ave Maria..."_

He sang himself to sleep, clutching his Rosary tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vietnamese Translations:**
> 
> đón anh ta = get him up  
> dừng lại = stop  
> không = no  
> bạn sẽ thú nhận = you will confess


	2. B.A. Baracus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As was said in Chapter 1 notes, I do not know what happened to soldiers in Vietnam, and I do not pretend to know. This is purely from my imagination. It is not meant to offend anyone.

**"And ask for forgiveness... We'll make a pact to never speak that word again  
Yes, you are my friend..."**

 

_It took a bullet to the leg to stop B.A. from running. He'd slipped up while running for the pickup point, and a bullet caught him in the leg. Five VC carried him back to the camp, and he was thrown into a cell, bullet and all.  
He spent most of his days lying on his back, on the dirt, thinking of ways to extract the bullet from his leg, and somehow survive the infection that had already set in. There were three men in that hole with him - all three had been taken, and had not come back. B.A. had come to the horrifying realization that he was going to die alone in a VC prison. _

_"I'm sorry, Mama... I’m so sorry..." he said aloud, to the empty space around him._

_Two weeks after he was locked away to his death, he heard a scuffle outside, and what sounded like an American, attempting to speak Vietnamese. The cell opened, and suddenly, he wasn't alone anymore._

_"kẻ ngốc điên ... ông là vô ích," he heard a VC say as the cage was closed._

_The groan he heard made him laugh out loud._

_"M-Murdock? That you?"_

_Murdock rolled over, holding his head._

_"B.A.?"_

_"Good to see you, man..."_

_Murdock crawled over to where B.A. lay._

_"You're shot."_

_"Thanks for... stating the obvious... Fool..."_

_"We have to get that bullet out, and sterilize the wound somehow."_

_"With what? All we got.... is dirt."_

_"Don't worry, buddy... I'll save you."_

_B.A. smiled for the first time in weeks. He wasn't going to die._

_Murdock managed to get the bullet out of B.A.'s leg, and had begun the process of tending to the wound, when the VC returned. Two of them came into the cell. A gun was immediately at Murdock's head. There was silence as the VC made a decision._

_"có những người đàn ông điên."_

_"No!" B.A. screamed. "No! Please! Don't take him!"_

_One of the VC turned and kicked B.A. swiftly in the ribs. B.A. shouted in pain, and rolled onto his back. He could hear Murdock singing "America the Beautiful" as he was dragged away._

_B.A. was alone -- again._

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Murdock!" 

B.A. shot up in bed, throwing his covers completely off the bed. He tumbled onto the floor and came up holding his pistol. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he realized that he wasn't in Hanoi. 

_I'm in L.A. - in a crappy hotel room. Alive._

He set down his gun on the night table, and sat down on the bed. He reached over to the night table and picked up a framed photograph, sitting by the phone. He looked longingly at the picture of his mother and father. 

"I miss you, Mama... I'm comin' home someday, and we can be together." 

He'd said the same thing in Vietnam. He remembered saying it while he was in that VC camp, when he thought he would die from his infected gunshot wound. 

He set the picture down, and kept his eyes on it as he slipped under the covers. 

"I love you, Mama." 

It took B.A. an hour and a half to lull himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vietnamese translations:**
> 
>  
> 
> kẻ ngốc điên ... ông là vô ích = crazy fool... he is useless  
> có những người đàn ông điên = take the crazy man


	3. H.M. Murdock

**"If I turn into another...Dig me up from under what is covering...The better part of me..."**

_Murdock had been hiding in a tree for two weeks before the VC finally discovered him. He'd gotten lost and disoriented in the jungle, and when he heard the VC getting closer to his position, he scrambled up a tree._

_The VC who spotted him shot at him, and Murdock lost his footing and fell from the tree. He was dragged semi-conscious back to the camp where the operation had taken place weeks earlier. They threw him in a cell, where he was relieved to see that B.A. was alive and well - for the most part. He tended to B.A.'s gunshot wound, but before he could do much, the VC came back and dragged him off._

_"Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, and amber waves of grain! For purple mountains majesty, upon the fruited plains!" Murdock sang at the top of his lungs. He knew it would irritate the men dragging him. He couldn't fight his way free, so annoying them was the next best option._

_"America! America! God shed his grace on thee!"_

_One of the VC punched him, but it did not shut him up._

_"And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!"_

_Murdock held the last note for as long as he could. The VC that hit him before delivered another punch. This one was square to the mouth, and shut him up._

_"im lặng, kẻ ngốc điên."_

_Murdock spit out his broken tooth, and grinned as he was brought into a hut. Six more VC were waiting there. A string of Vietnamese ensued between the group, bits of which Murdock could pick up. He'd taken it upon himself to learn Vietnames, but he wasn't very good at it. He thought it better that he didn't know what they said... it would make him less afraid to die._

_He felt himself being pushed into a chair and held there - not that he would be able to walk anyplace, anyhow... he was pretty sure he broke his ankle falling out of that tree._

_"Who fired shot?" said one of them in the most broken English Murdock had ever heard._

_"Tôi sẽ không bao giờ nói với bạn."_

_Suddenly he felt cold... and looked down at his torso. There was a knife sticking out of it._

_"You will tell me, American!"_

_"I will tell you nothing," Murdock spat out._

_The knife was pulled out of his stomach, and the VC reared his arm back to stab him again._

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Murdock screamed and wailed, thrashing about in his bed. An orderly burst into the room, followed by Dr. Richter. The psychologist had been called an hour ago, when the screaming started. 

"Mr. Murdock!" Dr. Richter screamed as the orderly held him down. Murdock started to settle. "Come on back, son... you're not there anymore. You're safe." 

Murdock settled back on the bed, and opened his eyes. Rick, the orderly, was there, holding his arms. And Dr. Richter was there. 

"Doc?"   
Dr. Richter smiled. 

"Are you all right, son?" 

Murdock sat up, and scrubbed a hand across his face. 

"I'm not sure." 

Dr. Richter signaled for the orderly to leave them alone. Once Rick had gone, Dr. Richter turned back to his patient.

"What was the dream about this time?"

Murdock shook his head furiously. 

"I can't tell you." 

"We've been through this before, many times. You can tell me." 

"Not this time, Doc. I can't tell you, and you can't make me." 

Dr. Richter sighed. Some days, he thought he was making a breakthrough with Murdock... other days, it was like he regressed back to the day he came to the VA.

"How about we get you a sedative? Would that help?" 

"No! I won't take a sedative!" 

"Okay, okay, calm down, You don't have to take one. I want you to try and sleep, though." 

"Can Billy sleep in my bed tonight?" 

Dr. Richter smiled. 

"Of course."

Murdock whistled, and Billy the invisible dog jumped up onto the bed and curled up next to him.

"Good night, Mr. Murdock. You know my phone number, if you want to talk." 

"Okie dokie, Doc. Night." 

Dr. Richter left him.

Murdock petted Billy and curled up under the covers. There was no way he'd be getting much sleep that night. He didn't want to go back there, not again. 

Not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vietnamese Translations: Chapter 3
> 
> im lặng, kẻ ngốc điên = shut up, crazy fool
> 
> Tôi sẽ không bao giờ nói với bạn = I will never tell you


	4. Hannibal Smith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter may contain graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

**"We all have something that digs at us..."**

 

_Hannibal moved around for two days, keeping quiet and out of sight from the VC. They were looking for him, he was sure. They didn't know where the fatal shot had come from. He saw them take Face, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the others were captured as well. If they had any chance of escape, he'd have to remain on the outside of the camp._

_He moved stealthily along the perimeter. He watched from the brush as soldiers were dragged around. At one point, he could even hear Murdock singing, and he grinned... whether or not he was really hearing it. The familiar sound of Murdock's voice was oddly comforting._

_After an hour of recon, Hannibal decided to move back into the jungle and hide until nightfall. He took a step backward._

_click._

_Hannibal looked down at his right foot, and gulped when he saw the side of a mine sticking out from the dirt._

_A booby trap._

Fuck. 

_He didn't move a millimeter. If he tried, he'd be dead before he could run._

_Hannibal waited._

_Night fell, and he was still in the same spot, his foot the only thing preventing him from splattering himself all over the Vietnamese jungle. He was getting an itch to move._

_Movement came from his right, and he readied his weapon. A Charlie came out of the brush, pointing a gun at him, shouting in Vietnamese._

_"dừng lại! bom mìn!" Hannibal shouted in broken Vietnamese. "Bom min!"_

_Charlie stopped and looked down at Hannibal's foot, and back up at his target. He bent and picked up a rock. Before Hannibal knew what was going on, he was on the ground, and there was a massive explosion._

_Hannibal crawled over to the body of the VC who had helped him. In the light of the burning branches around him, he saw the face of the VC._

_It was a kid._

_Hannibal brushed blood soaked hair from the kid's face. He couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, and he was out in the jungle, a trained killer._

_For the first time since he'd been dropped in this shit hole, Hannibal Smith felt tears stream down his face. This kid didn't deserve to die. Why did his life have to end in order for Hannibal to stay alive?_

_It wasn't fair._

_Hannibal held the body of the young soldier and let his tears fall as the jungle burned around him._

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Hannibal's eyes snapped open. He was facing the window of his trailer, on the set of his latest film. He could feel the wetness on his cheeks. He'd been crying in his sleep again. 

He sat up and shoved the covers off of him. He ran a hand over his unshaven face, and reached for his pants. He found a handkerchief in one of his back pockets, and wiped his face. The image of the dead boy was still fresh in his mind, and the phantom smell of the burning jungle permeated his olfactory senses. 

Fresh tears began to fall. 

Hannibal opened the small drawer on his side table. Inside, he took out a small wooden box. Shaking hands set it on the side table and flipped it open. He pulled out a fading, frayed patch. It'd belonged to the boy that died for him. He'd managed to rip it off the uniform and put it in the inside pouch of his jacket before the VC converged on his location and dragged him off to the prison camp. By a miracle, it'd made its way back to the States in Hannibal's pocket. 

He went over to the small table and lit up a cigar. He sat down and fingered the frayed patch in his hand. He'd written the kid's name on the back. _Bian Lan Thai._ He'd found it on a set of tags around the kid's neck. The patch, and knowing the kid's name, were a reminder that the innocent are not faceless, not anymore.

When the cigar was finished, Hannibal discarded it in the ashtray, and went back to bed. He clutched the patch in his hand as he sunk back into his pillow. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vietnamese Translations:
> 
> dừng lại! bom mìn! = stop! land mine!


	5. Epilogue

_The next morning..._

 

Tad's diner was quiet at 6 a.m. Hannibal sat in a corner booth, his nose in the Metro section of the L.A. Times. He'd picked this place because it was a hole in the wall in an unpopular part of town... a place Decker would never think to look. 

A burst of cold air told him that someone had come in. The jangling of what could only be massive amounts of jewelry told him that B.A. had just arrived. He heard the Sergeant slide into the booth across from him moments later. A plump waitress stalked over to the table with her order pad. 

"You boys ready to order?" 

"I'll have a coffee, ma'am," B.A. said. She wrote it down and went quickly to retrieve the coffee. She filled up B.A.'s cup and re-filled Hannibal's. 

"Anything for breakfast?" 

"We're waiting for two more," Hannibal said from behind his newspaper. 

"Okay, I'll come back later." 

The waitress stalked off, and the two friends sat quietly, drinking coffee. 

 

**Meanwhile...**

Murdock woke to tapping on his window. His digital clock read 6:45 a.m. A glance at the window showed him it was Face who was knocking. 

Murdock quickly changed and opened the window for his friend. He climbed out and they dropped to the ground. Bed check wasn't for another hour, so they had plenty of time before they realized Murdock was missing. 

The 'Vette sped down the highway. No music came from the radio, and neither man felt much like speaking. Face usually listened to a morning talk show, but his heart just wasn't in it this particular morning. He glanced over at Murdock, and noticed a distressed look on his friend's face. 

"Is everything all right, Murdock?" 

"I had the dream again." 

"The one where you got--" 

"Yeah, that one." 

"Are you all right?" 

"I'm not sure. When I woke up last night, Dr. Richter was there to calm me down. What if I wake up some night and hurt someone?" 

Face didn't respond right away. He took the next exit off the highway and pulled over. 

"Mine is the mallet torture." 

"The one that put you in a Vietnamese hospital for a month?" 

Face nodded. 

"Why does this have to happen?" Murdock asked, sounding almost childlike. His eyes pleaded for a direct answer, but he knew Face could not give him one. 

"I don't know, buddy. I just hope one day I can go to sleep, and I won't have that dream anymore." 

"Me too." 

Face looked at his watch. 

"We'd better get back on the road. Hannibal won't like it if we show up late." 

"Right, Muchacho." 

Face pulled onto the road and headed toward Tad's diner, six blocks down. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The door jangled again, and B.A. looked up from his coffee. Unfortunately, it wasn't Face and Murdock. 

"Where are those two at?" he said irritably. 

"They should be here soon." 

"Man, put down that paper when you talkin' to me. You had your face in it all morning." 

Hannibal complied and closed the newspaper. His eyes looked sleep-deprived, and he looked miserable.

"You all right, Hannibal?" 

The older man didn't say anything. 

"Nightmare again?" 

Hannibal nodded. 

"The land mine... the kid shoving me off and jumping on it. When the VC found me, I had his blood all over my uniform." 

"No wonder you couldn't sleep." 

"You don't look so well rested yourself, Sergeant," Hannibal countered. 

"I had one too. When I got shot in the leg and thought I was gonna die of infection." 

"Murdock saved you, if I remember what you told me." 

"Yeah, crazy fool dug out the bullet with a piece of bamboo. Hurt like hell." 

The door jangled, and both men looked over. Face and Murdock were walking toward the table. 

"Good to see you two," Hannibal said, tapping his wristwatch. 

Face slid into the booth beside Hannibal. 

"He had a nightmare again." 

Hannibal nodded his understanding. 

"Let's order breakfast, shall we?" 

Hannibal beckoned the waitress over and she quickly took their orders. They all sat around the table, drinking coffee and talking about their next mission. As the morning wore on, smiles started to return to weary faces. 

 

 _"Remind me that we'll always have each other... when everything else is gone."_

**END**


End file.
